t just as pent steam finds an escape somewhere, so will the man
who persists break at one point or another through confining
circumstance.

To the sniffing pickaninny once his good old mammy said,
"Yo' lil' black nose am drippin' from de cold dat's in yo' head,
An' yo' sleeve am slick and shiny like de hillside when it snows.
Why doan' you pump de bellers from de inside ob yo' nose?"
"Ain't I been," the child replied to her, "a-doin' ob jes' dat
Twel I's got a turble empty feel right whur I wears muh hat?
De traffic soht o' nacherly keeps gittin' in de road.
I blow muh nose a-plenty, but
it
won't
stay
blowed.

"What's de use ob raisin' chickens ef dey won't stay riz?
What's de use ob freezin' sherbet ef it won't stay friz?
What's de use ob payin' debts off ef dey's gwine stay owed?
What's de use ob blowin' noses ef dey won't stay blowed?"

This old world is sometimes jealous of the chap who means to rise;
It sneers at what he's doing or it bats him 'twixt the eyes;
It trips him when he's careless, and it makes his way so hard
What's left of him is sinew, not a walking tub of lard;
But it's only wasting effort, for by George, the guy keeps on
When his hopes have crumbled round him and you'd think his faith was gone,
Till the world at last knocks under and it passes him a crown:
Once, twice, thrice it has upset him, but
he
won't
stay
down.

What cares he when out he's flattened by the cruel blow it deals?
He has rubber in his shoulders and a mainspring in his heels.
Let the world uncork its buffets till he's bruised from toe to crown;
Let it thump him, bump him, dump him, but he won't stay down.

_St. Clair Adams._

THE RAINBOW

Our lives are not a hodge-podge of separate experiences, though they
sometimes seem so. They are held together by simple things which we
behold again and again with the same emotions. Thus the man is what the
boy has been; the tree is inclined in the precise direction the twig was
bent.

My heart leaps up when I behold
A rainbow in the sky:
So was it when my life began;
So